It took effort to avoid looking at Charlotte as she did the same. Everything she did was the subject of fascination to him. It was something about the way she moved, slowly and carefully, with a deliberation one didn’t often see in the twenty-first century. She reminded him of the screen sirens he’d watched in old movies growing up — all the sensuality of someone like Sophia Loren coupled with the reserve of Grace Kelly. The engines grew to a dim roar as they taxied down the runway. He dared a glance at her then, drank in her slim neck, her profile as she gazed out the window. Her posture was relaxed, her hands folded casually in her lap. He was glad for the distraction of takeoff, glad Julien had opted to sit in the cockpit with the pilot. Christophe didn’t want to make polite conversation. He was still trying to reconcile the bargain he’d struck with Edgar Duval’s daughter. He’d presented it as the only smart, viable option.
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